


Of Two Masters

by HopeCoppice



Category: Young Dracula
Genre: Abuse, Backstory, Flashbacks, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 04:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeCoppice/pseuds/HopeCoppice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No man should be a slave of two masters. But that's exactly what Ingrid is accusing the Chosen One's lover of being.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Two Masters

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for this. Poor Bertrand. Happier fics can sometimes be found on my FFN account (same username) as can some very angsty ones.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS for rape (repeatedly) but not TOO explicit I hope.  
> Sexual content. Slash.

Vlad woke smiling as Bertrand pressed soft kisses into his hair, his valet's arms wrapped tightly around him.  
“Mm. Morning.”  
“Sorry. I didn't want to wake you up, but Ingrid came to the door and demanded we be in the throne room in half an hour. Apparently she has something urgent to tell us.”  
“Mm, half an hour?” Bertrand nodded. “Then I'm not getting out of this coffin for at least twenty-five minutes. I don't get to spend enough time cuddling lately.”  
“I assume you want me to stay and provide the cuddles.”  
“I'm afraid so.”  
“Slavedriver.” But Bertrand was already pulling him closer and running his lips over the top of his back. Vlad rolled over to kiss him properly, and twenty-five minutes flew by.

Ingrid wasted no time, when they arrived in the throne room, in striding up to Bertrand and glaring at him with all the considerable menace she possessed.  
“Get away from my brother.”  
“What?” He stayed where he was, and she hissed.  
“Why do you need to be so close to him all the time, anyway?”  
“I... I love him.” He hadn't been planning to announce that in front of the whole court, but it was the only honest answer he could think of. Ingrid, however, just turned indignantly to her brother.

“He's lying, Vlad. He's been lying from the start.” Every eye was fixed on Bertrand now as she continued, “Loic Regis isn't dead.”

* * *

 

_“Vlad might have accepted you, but Vlad's a teenager with no sense. If you want to stay as his tutor, you'll have to get through an interview like anyone else.”_   
_“Of course, Count Dracula. I'd be happy to oblige.”_   
_“Well then. No time like the present.” He didn't offer Bertrand a seat, so he remained standing as the Count settled back in his chair. “Du Fortunesa, that's not a clan name.”_   
_“No. I'm a half-fang without clan.”_   
_“And your sire?”_   
_“Loic Regis,” Bertrand told him, and some of his disdain slipped into his tone. “he took me from a dark street at midnight, and... gave me the Book. Told me to search.”_   
_“And where is he now?”_   
_“Dead.”_   
_“Excellent, so no conflict of loyalties. Now, tell me more about this book...”_

* * *

 

Bertrand stood stunned.  
“I- what?”  
“He's not dead. I saw him at that party I had to go to on Vlad's behalf because he was _busy training,_ ” - her tone made it clear that she didn't believe that story for a moment - “and he seemed very much _un_ dead. We had quite a long chat, actually.”  
“What did you tell him?” Bertrand knew he'd gone paler than ever, and he'd given up all pretence of argument on the subject of his sire's continued existence.  
“Bertrand?” For the first time in a very long while, he ignored Vlad completely.  
“ _What did you tell him_ , Ingrid?” She shrugged.  
“He knew where you were, of course, because you'd been passing information back or whatever it is you've been doing. I pretended not to be surprised to see him. I thought that might annoy him more than it did.”  
“Oh thank blood, thank blood... but we have to-”  
“ _We_ don't have to do anything. _You_ are going to the cells until we can give you a fair trial and sentence you to death properly.”  
“Bertrand, what's going on?” Now he turned to his lover, clutching at his hands, but Vlad moved them out of reach.  
“Please, Vlad, you have to believe me, I'm not- I'm not- what am I being accused of, exactly?”  
“You know the sentence, I'm sure you can work it out,” Ingrid told him, “you're supposed to be a clever man, after all.”  
“Vlad, I'm not a traitor, I promise.” He didn't break eye contact, even as Ingrid's minions closed in and pinned his arms behind his back. “I wouldn't betray you like that.”

Vlad stared at him as if he was something new entirely. Something new and exceedingly unpleasant; something painful to contemplate and utterly heartbreaking.  
“I've heard that before.” And Bertrand was dragged away.

* * *

 

“ _New Chosen One pretender, half-fang?” Bertrand froze, one hand on the front door.  
“Yeah, unless it's the real one, this time. I didn't want to bother you until I was sure-”  
“Who, and where?” He hung his head, avoiding his sire's gaze.  
“Vladimir Dracula, England somewhere. He's advertising for a tutor, I thought it might be a good opportunity to slip in-”  
“Who told _ you _to_ think _?” Bertrand barely dodged the blow aimed at his head, and wondered for a moment if he shouldn't have just stayed still and taken it. Fortunately, it seemed Regis was in a relatively benevolent mood. “You go in and pretend to be his tutor. It'll be a good opportunity to slip in.”_  
 _“Good idea, sire. I'll set off right n-”_  
 _“Why aren't you gone already, you worthless half-fang? If you're not out of my sight in the next five seconds I'll find some less intellectual task to occupy y-” Bertrand had closed the door and shot off towards England as fast as he could, nothing more than a dark blur in the dark night._

* * *

 

“So my sire's alive.” Bertrand didn't bother to look up at whichever of Vlad's Council members had come to sneer at him this time. “Why does that make me a traitor?”  
“Why would you lie, if you weren't plotting against me?” He did look up then, only to find himself staring at the Chosen One himself. His beloved Vladimir was staring down at him with an expression he thought was probably intended to convey disgust, but which actually contained far too much heartbreak and tragedy to fit the bill.  
“I just wanted to escape.” How well that had worked out; he was fangcuffed to the bars of the cage he was in, it swayed alarmingly every time he moved, and _his sire would be coming_. “Vlad, you have to – he'll be coming, you need to be ready.”  
“So there's no plot against me but I should prepare for an attack?”  
“There... I wasn't working against you, I swear. Vlad. Please. I lo-”

“Don't.” There was the disgust, at last. “ _Don't_. I don't want to hear it. How can you even say that?”  
“It's true.” Bertrand didn't know how to make him understand that, though, didn't know how to make him believe it. “Please, he'll be coming. He wants... your power, he wanted me to talk him up to you, make you want to trust him-”  
“Then why did you tell my Dad he was dead?”  
“Because I realised... you were the real Chosen One... Vlad, you were my only hope.” He hung his head. “And then you became so much more.”  
“Give it a rest, Bertrand. Blood, I _knew_ you were too good to be true.”  
“Please-”

“I _love_ you!” The Chosen One exploded at last. “After everything that happened with Erin, I... and even now, I look at you and I just want you to hold my hand and tell me it'll be OK, but I can't trust a single word you say!” Bertrand reached a hand awkwardly through the bars, straining at the fangcuffs, and Vlad took it as if in a trance.  
“Even if they kill me, Vlad, you'll be OK. I'd just rather be there to see it.” Vlad nodded blankly, then seemed to snap out of his thoughts and wrenched his hand from Bertrand's.  
“If you're so keen not to be dust, tell me what you expect your sire to do. What's this terrible attack we ought to be prepared for?”

* * *

 

_“You've been accepted?”_   
_“Yes, sire, but they don't trust me yet. This boy's the real Chosen One alright, but he's young and he'll be easy to manipulate once he does. Given a few years-”_   
_“A decade, and no more. You'll mention me at every opportunity, of course, make him respect me. Who else does he have?”_   
_“His family. I'll try to eliminate the competition without arousing suspicion. It could take-”_   
_“A decade, at the most, and if you've not won me my Chosen One I'll come and take him under my wing myself. Let me down, half-fang, and you won't like the consequences.” He ran a cold hand down the side of Bertrand's face and the newly-appointed tutor had to focus very hard on not shuddering. “It's a shame, you make a half-decent toy... still, a decade is nothing, and I have plenty of other amusements. Don't fail me!” With that, Loic launched himself back into the sky, and Bertrand waited until he was sure he was out of sight before taking off towards Garside himself._

* * *

 

“I don't know, exactly. Your family – he'll try to isolate you, so you can't- so you have to rely on him. And when he finds out I haven't been talking him up like I promised... Just... please don't watch, don't ask what he's going to- just forget I ever existed, Vlad, please, I'm not coming out of this undead-”  
“My family. Isolate _how_?” Bertrand sighed.  
“I would have preferred the more diplomatic option, but my sire... it'll be a dustbath if you're not ready.”  
“You were going to cut me off from my family, _diplomatically_ -?” Vlad's face hardened. “You thought they'd turn away if you stopped me having heirs, making a good marriage-”  
“Vlad, no-”  
“You're undead tonight because I need to go and find out if he knows we've locked-”  
“He won't know yet, but I'm meant to check in tomorrow-”  
“-then we need to prepare. That's the only reason you're not drinking Holy Water right now, Bertrand. I don't have time to deal with you.” Then Vlad stormed out, hurt and angry, and Bertrand had never got the chance to really argue against his accusation of just pretending to love him as part of the plot.

* * *

 

“ _You're taking your time, half-fang. I must admit, I'd expected a dinner invitation at the very least by now.” He had to think fast if he was going to avoid being punished.  
“I'm building you up in his head, sire, as a vampire with far more important things to do than take an interest in him. He will contact you before the decade's out, but the longer he waits, the better the awe and respect will have taken. Hopefully, once he meets you, he'll do everything you say.” Loic preened and Bertrand almost relaxed – but then his hand shot out to grip Bertrand's arm as his other hand stroked, none too gently, down his side to his hip.  
“Well, if I'm to be denied the Chosen One's company for a while I shall make the most of having _ you _tonight-” No. Anything but this again. He'd rather be dust._  
 _“I'm sorry, sire, but the excuses I gave the Chosen One do not allow for a stay longer than I have already had.” His sire snarled, letting go, and Bertrand took a chance, taking off into the night before he could grab him again. No doubt the next meeting would be painful in consequence, but tonight he needed to get back to Vlad._

* * *

 

The next day, Bertrand was surprised to be woken from his uncomfortable sleep by Vlad slamming the door open.  
“There's an attack coming and all Dad can worry about is finding me an eligible lady to marry now I don't have you to be _led astray by_.” He slammed the door shut behind him just as violently and stormed over to sit by the cage. “And I have to marry her, because your plan can't be allowed to work, and if anything you've told me is true it's probably that your sire's going to show up when you don't tonight, and-”  
“I'm sorry.” In truth, he was more than sorry. He was heartbroken; Vlad, marrying a woman? Bertrand had never had any illusions about his own prospects with the Grand High Vampire, but to see him married off to someone else in such a hurry and against his will- “Who's he leaning towards?”  
“Adze Ramanga - I've never even met her, and her Dad gets on my nerves. Can't wait.” He sounded as if he was talking about a fate worse than death; Bertrand supposed it was rather a rotten bit of luck.

He decided to try to take his mind off it, even at his own expense.  
“Why are you here, Vlad?” The Chosen One looked up at him guiltily, then shrugged.  
“Habit, I suppose. I can only really think when you're here. You make me feel...” He trailed off and his voice turned sad and bitter. “You make me feel _safe_ ,” he finished at last, “how stupid is that? Even now.”  
“You _are_ safe with me, Vlad, but my sire- Vlad, you don't have to tell me what you've done but please tell me you've made _some_ preparations.” He nodded ruefully and Bertrand relaxed, immediately regretting it as his arms dragged down on his hands and the cuffs bit into his wrists.  
“Ingrid's taken charge of the school's defence and, well, since she actually managed to hang onto Stokely Castle for a while and Dad and I are more skilled in the art of the tactical retreat, I've let her.”  
“Good. Good, but- but make sure she knows, Loic Regis is... he's sleazy. If he can't talk his way in or force his way past the defences he'll...” He didn't know how to say it. “He might try to force other things. Ingrid should know that, I assume her half-fangs are manning the place anyway, she needs to be aware of what they're facing.” Vlad nodded slowly, though Bertrand could tell he wouldn't understand the warning until he'd run it past his family. His beloved boy had led quite a sheltered unlife in some respects.

“...Thank you,” he said at last, “for listening at least, even if you are probably just trying to think of a way to pass it back-”  
“I _hate_ my sire,” Bertrand burst out, “if he comes here and you stake him I'll go to my own execution with a smile on my face and a litany of gratitudes. I'm not going to _help_ him. I just want you to be careful.” Vlad reached through the bars of the cage as if he wasn't even aware of doing it and brushed a hand gently though Bertrand's hair, stroking softly with his thumb.  
“I'll be careful.” He pulled his hand back abruptly. “Have you been fed?” Bertrand grimaced; he made him sound like a dog.  
“No.”  
“I'll send something down.” Then Vlad was gone, so quickly that Bertrand wondered if he'd ever been there at all.

* * *

 

_The heel of Regis' hand dug into Bertrand's back and he had to fight the urge to roll his shoulders, trying to ease the ache – it wouldn't do any good, it would only infuriate his sire. He couldn't simply push him off him, either; he was his sire, he owned him, and besides, he would only be angrier next time._   
_“That's it, stay down. It's a pity I don't have any rope with me tonight, it's so much better when you have something to struggle against. Oh, of course there's my hand, but you know better.” He interrupted himself with a grunt and Bertrand suppressed the cry of pain that threatened to escape him. “And you know I love to see the way the rope cuts into your wrists. Your pain is exquisite, it's one of the only reasons you're not dust right now. You make a good toy, half-fang, if nothing else.” Bertrand refused to give him the satisfaction of struggling... whatever other satisfaction his sire was taking. When at last it was over, his sire released him and Bertrand slumped across the table for a few moments before gingerly getting to his feet and straightening his clothes._   
_“I should return to the Chosen One; my absence will be noted.” He turned to leave, but his sire grabbed him, turning him around and forcing his chin up between thumb and finger until their eyes met._   
_“What do you say, first, half-fang?” Bertrand grimaced; he'd hoped to escape this part of his sire's twisted little game._   
_“...Thank you, sire.”_

* * *

 

“You told my brother Loic Regis was _sleazy_. Why?” He looked up at Ingrid as she handed a bottle of soy blood through the bars.  
“He is. You shouldn't be fighting him without knowing that; he'll do horrible things to anyone he can get hold of.”  
“And his plans for Vlad?”  
“Probably the same.” He shuddered at the very thought, but it was the truth. The cuffs clanked against the bars of the cage. “I'm afraid I can't drink that with no hands.” She hesitated, but then produced a key and released one of his hands from the fangcuffs, attaching the empty cuff to the bars instead. He hurried to get the top off the bottle – awkward, with one hand – and drank deeply.

“How do you know... what makes you think he'd do that to Vlad?” That was something he didn't want to answer, but he supposed they had to be warned that the danger was real.  
“Don't tell Vlad?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly anticipating a confession of treason and conspiracy – but she nodded, and Bertrand realised it was the best he was going to get. “...He did it to me.”  
“What?” She seemed shocked, but as she peered through the bars she seemed to accept that he was telling the truth. “When?”  
“More than once. Four hundred years- but please don't tell Vlad, I-”  
“Wait. Wait, are we talking about the same thing? He... was it consensual, between the two of-?”  
“No.” He drank again. “No, not with him. That's why you have to be careful.” Ingrid stared at him in horror for a few moments.  
“...And you're still _working for him_?” Bertrand shook his head.  
“I told you, I'm not. I've been trying to _escape_ from him. I thought I might be safe here, and then I realised I had very unservantly feelings for Vlad, and-”  
“Before that, though. Before you came here-”  
“-he's my sire. What he commands, I obey. And I had nowhere else to go. Don't judge me for that, Ingrid.”  
“...I don't,” she told him, after a minute of silence. “I don't. I need to- my half-fangs, I need to talk to them about some things, and then... I need to talk to Vlad.”  
“Please don't tell him, Ingrid, it'd break his heart-”  
“I won't tell him that. But... I will tell him I think you're telling the truth. I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions.” Bertrand stared at her, unable to comprehend what she was saying, the sudden change of heart. She sighed. “Dad tried to marry me off once, and it was... that terrified me. The idea of being sold to someone, not being able to say no... I believe you. And I'm sorry.” She was gone before he could form a proper response to that.

* * *

 

“ _Please,” Bertrand whimpered, hating himself for it, “please let me go.” He was surrounded by vampires – half-fangs, whatever those were – but they couldn't do anything more to him, surely. The one they all called 'sire' had made him one of them, and now he had nothing more for them to take. Apparently, trying to suggest this to their 'sire' had been a mistake.  
“Nothing to take, half-fang? That's not true at all. I can still take _ you _.”_

_Later, Bertrand would remember only vague details – the haunted eyes of his fellow half-fangs as they watched his disgrace, the sounds his sire made as he pulled him backwards, the way his own hands scrabbled at the stone tomb he'd been bent over. Above all, the pain, the excruciating pain of it all, the hot shame and the tears and the feeling of being violated. Those were the things he remembered of that first time._

_There would be others, and the memories grew stronger._

* * *

 

Vlad had appeared in the doorway, wild-eyed, and then a scream from upstairs had sent him running again. Bertrand already knew what would happen; Loic Regis was a creature of habit and he tended to reclaim his property before laying waste to whoever had taken it. Sure enough, while his half-fangs attacked the school, Loic strolled through the door Vlad had just disappeared from.  
“Impressive defences, I must say, but no sign of the Chosen One. Disappointing, but we'll find him. As for you, half-fang... what am I going to do with you?” The conversational tone of his voice dropped away suddenly. “You've failed me. I wanted the Chosen One delivered to me and you couldn't even keep yourself out of a cage. Look at you, you're even... oh, just one hand cuffed? Perfect, better manoeuvrability that way. Just waiting for me.” The key to the cage was hanging on one of the adjacent walls, behind an argentalium screen to protect it from telekinesis. Bertrand did his very best not to look at it, but it wasn't difficult to spot and his sire soon had it in his hand. “Oh, half-fang, did you think the little cage would protect you?”  
“He should know I will.”

Bertrand's head snapped up as he recognised the voice, his face falling in horror as he saw Vlad standing in the doorway.  
“Get out,” he tried, but his sire had already turned.  
“You've got yourself a little champion, have you, Bertrand? Maybe he should join our little game.”  
“Leave him out of this.”  
“He's important to you, then. Excellent. That's even better. I'll make him watch as I take you- or maybe I'll make _you_ watch as I take _him_ -”  
“Sire, let him go, please-”  
“Don't beg on my account, Bertrand.” Vlad squared up to Regis as if the older vampire wasn't twice his size – though admittedly most of that was fat rather than muscle. “He has no idea who he's messing with.”  
“Brave little boy, he'll make an excellent toy-” His sire cut himself off as he found himself pinned to the wall by an invisible force.  
“Bertrand, has he hurt you?” Bertrand shook his head weakly, waiting for his sire to fight back. “Your... game? Are you two-?”  
“No, we're- I- please, Vlad, I never-” The Chosen One, despairing of getting a straight answer from Bertrand, turned on his sire instead.  
“Then I'll ask you. What is Bertrand to you?” Regis sneered.  
“He's whatever I want him to be. He's my half-fang toy. And he's so deliciously _tight_ -”  
“Bertrand, did you-?” He didn't take his eyes off of his tutor's sire.  
“He- I didn't- I had no choice-”

Vlad's face, previously full of doubt and hurt, hardened and turned cold.  
“Your unwilling _toy_? You... how could you do that to him?”  
“He's nothing, why shouldn't I make use of him-?”  
“He's _mine_. And I love him.” He suspected that the way Vlad was claiming possession of him, just as his sire always did, should have made his skin crawl, but instead he felt a warm glow of belonging, deep inside. “He's his own man, and he's brave and strong and beautiful but he belongs with me and I can't do without him. And anyone who hurts him answers to me.”  
“And who are _you_?” The sneer seemed forced.  
“I am Vladimir Dracula IV, Imperator Domino Electus, Chosen One and soon-to-be Grand High Vampire.”  
“So anyone who hurts him answers to the Chosen One, but you've locked him up and prevented him from leaving? _That_ seems a healthy relationship-”  
“A misunderstanding,” Vlad told him, “which we'll be clearing up as soon as you're dust.”

* * *

 

_When he was much younger, Bertrand had tried to run away. In return, the Book had been confiscated for a month when he was caught, and he'd been confined to Loic's residence. Specifically, he'd spent a lot of time in his sire's coffin room._   
_“Oh, half-fang, you're lucky you feel so good or I'd have staked you for what you did earlier.”_   
_“Please, you've had your fun, just let me go-”_   
_“No. No, no – I haven't nearly exhausted my fun with you, boy. You're not leaving this room for a long time.”_

* * *

Loic Regis began at last to struggle, realising the danger he was in, as Vlad lowered him to the ground and forced him to his knees.  
“INGRID!” She appeared in the doorway with a weary smile.  
“We've got 'em all, but no sign of- is that him?” Vlad nodded and she strode over to kick Loic Regis squarely between the legs. He howled, unable even to double over with Vlad's mind holding him in place.  
“Let Bertrand out, please, and find him a stake. I think he might want to do this himself.” She unlocked the cage and the cuffs, but Bertrand refused to take the stake she offered him.  
“I'm his half-fang, the loyalty...”  
“I'll help you. And he's not giving any orders.” Regis opened his mouth to argue but no sound came out. Bertrand took the stake and came to stand in front of his sire, looking down. Vlad moved in behind him, his hand coming to cover Bertrand's on the stake. “Ready to get your revenge?” he murmured, and Bertrand nodded, wide-eyed. 

The stake plunged forward and Regis screamed as he crumbled to dust. Ingrid leant over and spat contemptuously on the ashes. Vlad, though, threw the stake away and gently turned Bertrand in his arms until they were looking into each other's eyes.  
“I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry,” Vlad was repeating, over and over, and Bertrand could do nothing but pull him into a tight hug.  
“He's gone, he's gone.” He wasn't sure who moved, but suddenly their lips met, and then they were clinging and kissing as if it was all that would keep them from shattering.

* * *

 

 _Vlad had him pinned down in training – Bertrand might have decided to go a little easy on the boy today, since he looked so tired – and was baring his fangs about two inches from his tutor's face, when suddenly his expression changed and he shifted closer, bringing his lips to Bertrand's for a moment that seemed to hang in the air for longer than it ought to have. He pulled back, looking startled and apologetic, but Bertrand's brain was completely fried and he couldn't hear the little voices of reason in his head that would usually scream_ shouldn't _and_ mustn't _and_ treason _. He pulled Vlad back down and kissed him back._

* * *

 

Ingrid very generously gave them a couple of minutes before clearing her throat, still staring pointedly at the wall.  
“Alright, I'm happy for you both, can this wait?” They pulled apart, looking sheepish, but Vlad slipped an arm around Bertrand's waist to keep him close.  
“What do we need to sort out?” Ingrid sighed.  
“The rest of his half-fangs are dead, you might want to officially pardon Bertrand before someone stakes _him_ , and then- oh you know what, I'll sort everything else out, just write me a note I can show everyone about the pardoning thing.” Vlad found an old bus ticket in his pocket and scrawled a note on the back of it before handing it to Ingrid.  
“My room, Bertrand?” He held out a hand, and Bertrand took it, allowing himself to be led upstairs.  
“Actually, can I meet you in a few minutes? I'd like a shower.”

When Bertrand, his hair still damp, knocked and stepped into Vlad's room, he found the Chosen One frantically filling the bin with all the tissues that had piled up around his coffin.  
“Do I want to know?” Bertrand managed half a smile to show he was teasing, but Vlad rushed over to kiss him anyway.  
“Don't laugh. There might have been some crying, when... well, when you weren't here.” Bertrand kissed him back, and they found their way into Vlad's coffin together.

“When you went to meet him, did he-? When you went from here, I mean. When you were with-”  
“That's why I didn't let _you_ \- I- it was too risky.”  
“You... blood, Bertrand.”  
“I'm sorry. I didn't really have a choice...”  
“No, don't apologise. I'm not cross, I'm just... sad for you.”  
“Please don't pity me-”  
“I _love_ you. I'm so sorry- I can't believe I thought-”  
“I'm sorry I lied.” Bertrand hung his head. “I thought- at least this way, if my sire tried to use being my sire as a way to get to you, you'd know right away something was up-”  
“You didn't want to talk about it, Bertrand, I get it.”  
“I should have told you. Especially when-” He stopped abruptly. “You had a right to know.”

* * *

 

“ _Bertrand,” Vlad whined, arching his body up against his lover's, “fog, I want you so much.”_  
 _“I- I'm not ready for that, Vlad.” The Chosen One whimpered before catching himself and nodding._  
 _“OK, that's OK, blood, I think I need to excuse myself for a moment-” Bertrand kissed his bare shoulders again and he moaned. “Don't- not fair-”_  
 _“I could... help you, though.” That caught Vlad's interest._  
 _“Help?”_

_Moments later, his trousers were somewhere on the other side of the room and Bertrand was doing his best to give him the most pleasure he possibly could with only his hand. Fog, the boy was intoxicating. Given the most favourable possible circumstances, Bertrand was fairly certain he'd be unable to resist. But these were not those circumstances, and he had to keep Vlad safe. When Vlad finally shuddered and went still, Bertrand curled up beside him and tried very hard not to think about his own arousal. By the time the younger vampire came back to earth, his tutor had himself under control._

* * *

“I understand why you didn't, Bertrand. Blood, are you alright? How- I mean, how are you feeling?”  
“He's dust.” Bertrand shook his head. “He's dust, I can't describe-” He choked, trying to hold back tears, but Vlad was right there with his arms around him.  
“It's alright. Just let it out, love.” Before he could argue, he was sobbing against Vlad's shoulder, burying his face against his neck as if that wasn't treason, as if it wasn't enough to get him put right back in the cage. All Vlad did, though, was make soothing noises and rub his back reassuringly. And suddenly, Bertrand was squirming to get closer, making desperate noises through his tears. 

“Bertrand, are you alright-?”  
“I want-” He stopped squirming suddenly, pulling away in horror. “I want you. Blood, how can I even think of that-?”  
“Shhh, Bertrand, it's fine. I'm not going to sleep with you tonight, but if you want to one day when you're feeling better, I'd... yeah, I'd really like that. Only if you want to. Tonight, though, you're upset and I don't want to push you.” Bertrand whimpered, then hung his head, ashamed – only to find Vlad's fingers under his chin, tilting his head back up. “Don't be embarrassed. I- if you want, and if it's safe... I can do what you did for me, I think it's long overdue.”  
“You don't have to-”  
“I'd be honoured to.” Bertrand's eyes widened; Vlad's gaze remained steady, sincere. Eager, even.  
“...Oh, fog,” he conceded at last, “please.”

* * *

 

_Vlad was nibbling gently just below his ear, and Bertrand's stomach was churning. Last night, just last night, oh blood, he'd let his sire- his sire had made him- and now he was lying here under Vlad as if any of that was OK. The Chosen One was shifting his hips as slowly as he could bear to, it seemed, thrusting steadily into Bertrand's hand as he lavished attention on the older vampire's neck... Bertrand tried to keep all hints of his inner turmoil hidden as he moaned appreciatively. The attention to his neck was very pleasant, it was true, and quite unlike anything his sire had ever done for him, but he still felt like dirt, touching Vlad and allowing him to touch him after what he'd done._

_Vlad came with a shudder and his fangs dug into Bertrand's neck; for a moment he panicked, his free hand digging into Vlad's back, hard enough to leave marks. Vlad didn't seem to mind the pain – in fact, if Bertrand had been paying attention, he probably would have realised that his lover seemed to enjoy it – but as he stopped shaking he pressed a concerned little kiss to Bertrand's forehead._   
_“You alright, love? Are you sure you don't want me to-”_   
_“I'm OK.” He was; he had to be. This was Vlad, and he loved Vlad. He wanted to give Vlad pleasure. Only for one moment had he believed that his sire was there, was claiming him again. “I'm OK.”_   
_“Sure?”_   
_“Yeah. Don't worry about me, just enjoy the moment. Feeling good?” Vlad sighed contentedly and settled down beside his lover, resting his head on his shoulder._   
_“Amazing.”_

* * *

 

Bertrand's teeth grazed Vlad's neck for the first time and he froze, caught desperately clinging to the edge of sanity on the verge of overwhelming pleasure.  
“ _Yes_ , Bertrand, you can bite me,” Vlad murmured hotly into his ear, hand still working, and Bertrand let go. As he succumbed to the pleasure, Vlad let out a little gasp in response to the bite. Bertrand was fairly sure that the Chosen One had never been bitten before, and he would do everything within his power to make sure that he was never bitten by anyone else ever again. He was Bertrand's, a primal feeling inside him cried triumphantly, and he would never let anyone else touch him.

“Alright?” Vlad whispered, peering down at him in obvious concern as he lay trying to get his bearings back.  
“Yes. _Yes_. Vlad- thank you- I don't deserve-” Then he was being showered in kisses.  
“You deserve the world, Bertrand. And from now on, I'm going to make sure you get it.” Snuggled in his young lover's arms, Bertrand slept peacefully at last.


End file.
